“Will anyone lend me a watch? Mine has stopped.” This man was the timekeeper for Cambridge, and indeed was no other than Clarke’s friend, one of the breakfast-party that morning.
“Here is one!” cried George, recognising him and unfastening me from his ribbon-chain. The next moment I was hurrying towards the goals in my borrower’s hands.
I had now nothing for it but to attend closely to the game, for the old gentleman and lady were too far away for me to be able to observe them any further.
The ball was started again, and I had the satisfaction of seeing that both Jim and Charlie were in new posts, which promised a better chance of sport.
And so it happened.
Hardly had the first scrimmage been formed when Jim was seen slipping out of it with the ball under his arm, making straight for the Sandhurst goal. He was quickly stopped, however, and after a desperate encounter the ball got free and rolled out of the crush towards where Charlie stood.
He, not waiting to pick it up, went at it with a flying kick. Up flew the ball, amid cheers and shouts, right over the heads of the players, and had it not been for the promptitude of the Cambridge “backs” it might have got behind their goal. And now, as if every one knew the time was getting short, the play became harder than ever. Many a time did I catch sight of my two Randlebury friends in the thick of the fight, sometimes hand to hand, sometimes separated by a living wall of humanity, but always doing their work, and straining for the one object. The time went on. The man who held me looked at me now oftener than he had done hitherto; and presently, when I pointed to five minutes to four, he cried out to a player near him, “Five minutes more.”
That player was Charlie Newcome, and I saw his face flush as of old, and knew he at any rate intended to make the most of the brief time remaining.
But two of the minutes were gone before his chance came. Then there was a cry, and all eyes turned towards him, for there came the ball flying straight to where he stood. In a moment he had it, and started to run. It was a desperate chance, but Charlie was ready for desperate deeds. Shout rose on shout, and cheer on cheer, as first one, then another of the enemy was overturned or dodged. The more he achieved, the less his enemies ventured against him, and he dashed through their “forwards” and between their “quarter-backs.” Next moment, with a mighty swoop, their “half-back” fell to the earth.
And now there are but two men to pass, and one of these is Jim Halliday. The avenging host follows in hot haste behind, but the issue of the fight lies with these two. See the grin of joy on Jim’s face as he throws away his cap, and watches his dear enemy advance! It was as if a trumpet-call had suddenly sounded in the ears of two old chargers, and to them that moment the world was all contained in the space which severed them. Straight as an arrow rushed Charlie, firm as a rock waited Jim. Nor had he long to wait. With a bound and a howl his enemy leapt at him, and next moment the two were locked in an embrace the shock of which even I could distinctly hear. Oh, shades of Randlebury I did your school every turn out two finer men than this pair of struggling, straining, rival friends! The collision occurred close to the goal-line, and a moment afterwards a cry of “Maul!” proclaimed that they had in their struggle crossed the line, and that consequently (in accordance with the law of the game) the contest for the ball must be decided by these two alone, without aid or hindrance from the breathless friends and foes who stood round. A fair field and no favour! A ring was formed, and as my heart beat rapidly on towards the critical moment, these two strained every nerve to get the advantage for his side before “time” should be called.